Love Is The Death of Duty
by Amara Lightskipper
Summary: Bran Stark is at war with himself. Torn between being the Three-Eyed Raven and being with the people he loves. It's basically a rewrite of Season 8 in Bran's POV. Bran/Meera Fix-It Oneshot.


Bran never told Meera the real reason he sent her away. It was because of that vision he always had of her ever since they'd cross the Wall back to Westeros.

Every night he saw Meera in Winterfell's godswood. She had her back flat on the ground, as her sword skidded a few feet away from her. At the same time, she looked up at the Night King standing over her with his weapon drawn, ready to strike.

He woke up everytime he saw that vision. And each time he did, he cried secretly. He would not dare look at other visions that involved Meera as it'll hurt too much. But Bran knew who'll be able to kill the Night King and which people would die at the battle against the dead.

Though it felt like being pierced through the chest when he watched her leave resenting him, it was better that way than he had to see her die before him. At least, when Meera goes home to Greywater Watch, their castle in the swamps, she'll be safe and away from danger. And maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to change her fate. That's how much he loves her.

Bran had lost everything and everyone one he loved, his parents, his two brothers, friends, and loyal servants. And since he already knew the fates of his sisters, Arya and Sansa, and his cousin, Jon, and the big parts they will play on the future of Westeros, Bran couldn't afford to lose a loved one again. _Not Meera too, please_. He thought maybe a thousand times as he stared into the flames of the fireplace in his chambers.

He sent ravens to look after Meera when she left, but either she'd yell at it to go away or throw rocks at it or threaten to shoot it and cook it for a meal.

Bran sat on his chair in the courtyard as he knew Jaime Lannister would pass through and enter the gates. And when that happens, he will be waiting. Partly, make it himself known that the boy he pushed off that tower had survived.

As Jaime Lannister was taken into the great hall to face the dragon queen, someone else entered that he didn't expect. Men carrying green banners with a black lizard-lion came through the gates.

A man with a mud-green cloak went down his horse. He definitely stood out from the rest as he was the only one whose cloak nearly touched the ankle of his boots. He was shorter than most average Northerners. In fact, when Bran himself could stand, he'd be taller than him. The man had honey brown hair with a few grey streaks in them and he held a three-pronged spear in his hand and a woven net by his belt opposite a long hunting knife. Bran remembered his face. Only, the man was older than when he'd last saw him in his visions.

_Howland Reed_, he thought. _But wait, if he's here then—oh no!_ Bran had blocked out visions that concerned Meera that he literally hadn't seen them coming.

Not long after, a young woman walked towards Lord Reed. Bran also recognized her. Even though he intentionally sent her away, he was glad to see her.

Meera looked different now. She was dressed like his sister, Arya, with a leather tunic, breeches, and leather boots, only they were in green leather, not brown. She wore a cloak with a hood. Like her father, she had weapons on her belt, a sword, the same Valyrian steel sword she had picked up in the Cave of the Three-Eyed Raven, and the dragonglass dagger, Samwell Tarly had given her, and on her back slung an archer's bow and quiver of arrows.

She seemed to be complaining to her father and looked like she didn't want to be there, but Lord Reed only raised his hand to keep her quiet.

"But father, we—" Meera faltered when she saw him across the courtyard. If it was possible, her expression turned angrier.

"Hello, Meera." He greeted, not knowing what to say.

"Lord Brandon," Howland Reed addressed. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"As of you, Lord Reed." Bran countered. "Welcome to Winterfell." He gestured for one of the soldiers to push his chair. "If you would please, follow me to the Great Hall."

He called one of the men training in the yard, Podrick Payne, a loyal squire to Brienne of Tarth, to push his chair into the great hall. The Reeds followed after them.

They arrived in time to see Jaime Lannister on a supposed trial. Daenerys had him for her father, King Aerys' murder. Sansa had him for his crimes on their family, attacking their father on the streets of King's Landing which resulted in Jory Cassel's death, killing Stark men, conspiring with the Boltons and Freys to kill their brother Robb in the Twins.

But of course, those weren't his only crimes. There was the time he pushed Bran out of the Broken tower because he saw something he wasn't supposed to see. Jaime Lannister was the reason why he lost the use of his legs and why he was on a chair.

"You want me to apologize?" Ser Jaime guessed. "I won't. We were at war." He insisted. "Everything I did, I did it for my house and my family. I'd do it all again."

"The things we do for love." Bran spoke up.

Then Brienne of Tarth stood from her seat next to Alys Karstark and vouched for Ser Jaime, to which Jon and Sansa went with and Daenerys dismayed by the looks of it.

Afterwards, the Reeds were introduced to the court. "Lord Howland Reed of Greywater Watch," A guardsman announced. "And his daughter, Lady Meera."

Everyone glanced as Howland Reed stepped forward with Meera before the dragon queen, Jon, and Sansa. Bran heard mutters among a few people in the crowd.

_Frogeaters_, one said. _Mudmen, bogdevils_, another said. Bran sighed. There was always discrimination among Northern houses, especially the ones with unusual practices. And the Crannogmen was one of them, besides the cannibals of Skagos Island or the Mountain clans of Flint's Fingers and Widow's Watch.

"Welcome to Winterfell, Lord Reed." Sansa greeted.

Howland Reed bowed in acknowledgment. "Thank you, my lady," He turned to Daenerys and Jon. "Your Grace, my lord, for receiving us." He said. "My apologies if it took a while to get here. Ravens hardly get to where we're from and the swamps are nearly difficult to navigate nowadays as it's mostly frozen."

Looking at them, Bran could tell Meera was definitely Howland's daughter. Not because they were both short in stature but because they have the same intense green eyes and had this aura of mysteriousness to them.

Sansa smiled. "It's quite alright." She said. "It's an honor to finally meet you, Lord Reed. Your house is one of House Stark's loyal bannermen, and you yourself were our father's good friend, and even saved his life during the rebellion."

Lord Howland managed a sad smile, then took a quick glance at Jon. Of course, Bran knew what really happened during Robert's Rebellion. And not everything in the stories they were told was actually true. One was that it was Howland Reed who delivered the fatal blow to Arthur Dayne, not Eddard Stark; and that he was the only other person alive who knew about Jon's parentage.

"He was a good man, your father," Howland replied. "And a great friend."

Sansa turned to Meera. "Lady Meera," She called. "I never got the chance to formally thank you for bringing my brother home, you left so suddenly. You have done him great kindness and we are forever grateful to you and your house for it."

"It's my duty to serve my liege lords…and ladies." Meera replied. "And it was your brother who sent me back home."

Jon leaned forward. "My lady, is it true that you killed a White Walker?"

Everyone started talking at the same time in disbelief. _This little crannogwoman killed a White Walker?_ A few wondered.

Meera's eyes widened in surprise, then turned to Bran. She may have thought that he told Jon about it. Bran knew Meera hated whenever that topic was brought up. When she recalled their adventures beyond to a few Night's Watchmen in the Wall, they were practically in awe of her and wanted to know more. But she refused to say anything more.

"Begging your pardon, my lady," Jon apologized. "It was I who told the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch to report any news of the White Walkers and the dead army to me. That's how I knew."

Meera became self-conscious as everyone was staring at her, waiting for an answer.

Bran spoke on her behalf. "She saved my life." He stated, prompting everyone to be silent. "Hordes of wights were after us. A White Walker came close to me." He explained. "Meera threw a dragonglass spear, piercing it through his neck and it shattered into a million pieces, like glass."

Meera suddenly found her voice. "Half the time, I didn't know what I was doing." She admitted. "The only thing going through my head was to get your brother and myself out of that place."

"That's why I brought her with here with me." Howland pointed out. "Others can learn from her. And she can help with the war preparations."

Afterwards, Sansa ordered for their guests to be shown to their chambers, whereas Bran asked to be in the godswood. And of course, as he expected Jaime Lannister approached him and apologized for what he had done to him, for pushing him off that tower.

Bran assured him that if he hadn't done what he had done, things would've been different. He probably would've gone with his father and sisters to the capital and he still would have his legs and climbed many trees and towers he wanted. He wouldn't be the Three-Eyed Raven, he wouldn't have suffered the things he suffered, and he wouldn't have met the Meera and Jojen Reed.

Thereafter, Bran told Podrick to summon Meera as he'd like a word with her, alone.

As he waited, that vision of her in the godswood came back to him. And he was still determined to not let that happened.

_The past is already written_, the last Three-Eyed Raven had said. _The ink is dry._

_No!_ Bran mentally screamed. He's not gonna let her die on his expense. He'd lost enough loved ones in his life, he couldn't afford to lose Meera as well.

Moments later, he could hear light footsteps in the snow. Bran turned and saw Meera walking towards him. Her expression was a mixture of annoy and anger.

Meera stopped before him and crossed her arms. "So, what do you want now?" She asked, with a bit of resentment in her voice.

"Meera—" He started to say.

"Lady Sansa has asked me to head to the courtyard and oversee a few archers in training." She explained. "So if you please, whatever it is you need, make it quick."

Bran was speechless for a moment. This wasn't the Meera he knew. She was cheerful and caring, and the one before him now was cold and bitter. Partly, he was to blame for her behavior towards him now.

"I thought you wanted to be with your family when the dead come." Bran spoke up. "You didn't have to come back for me. You would've been safe there."

Meera rolled her eyes. "I didn't come for you." She corrected. "I never wanted to come back here after you sent me away." She shrugged. "But your sister had called the banners, and I arrived home just in time as my father gathered his men."

"Why are you here then?" He asked.

"I would've stayed home, yes." She admitted. "But when my father found out I killed a White Walker, he insisted on taking me to Winterfell with him." She huffed, then raised an eyebrow at him. "I thought you know everything. You must've figured that out. Especially since I kept seeing ravens on my journey home."

"It doesn't work that way."

"Because you never bothered or even tried to explain how it works." Meera pointed out. "You may see things in the past or things that haven't happened yet, but you tend to not care about what's happening now." She was already yelling, and her eyes began to water. "You never cared about the people who look out for you and risked their lives for you. That's what's wrong with you, Brandon." She then turned her back on him.

"Meera, please," Bran managed to grab her arm. "Please. Listen to me." He pleaded. "Everyone's fates are sealed and there's nothing I can do about it. Believe me, I've tried."

_I tried to save you and yet here you are_. Bran thought but he didn't say it out loud. And yes, he tried. He tried to run to his father before the executioner chopped off his head, to his mother and eldest brother during the Red Wedding massacre and even to his younger brother when he was used as bait by the Bolton bastard.

Meera turned back to face him curiously.

"I didn't want anyone to die for me." Bran continued. "I've had enough guilt on my conscience." He sighed. "And I—I'm sorry, for everything I've done that wronged you. And I also want to thank you for everything you've done for me. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be where I am now."

Meera wiped her tears and slowly smiled. The same cheerful smile he always loved. "That's all I ever wanted to hear." Then she surged forward and wrapped him in a hug.

. . .

Right before the few Night's Watchmen and Wildlings arrived, Bran had managed to speak to Jon about his parentage.

"If you're still having doubts about it," Bran said. "You can talk to Howland Reed." He suggested.

Jon frowned at him. "What does he know?" He asked.

"Most of the truth." He revealed. "He was a good friend of the Starks. And he was the only one who survived out of the five men that went with Ned Stark in Dorne." He pointed out. "He was there when your mother died and when father decided to bring you North with him. But Lord Reed had sworn to secrecy until the time is right."

Afterwards, Bran had already known the bad news brought by the Night's Watch Lord Commander, Eddison Tollett; the lightning lord and former outlaw, Beric Dondarrion; and the Wildling leader, Tormund Giantsbane, before they even reported to Jon of Ned Umber's reanimated corpse impaled in the Last Hearth's great hall.

_They're fighting for the Night King now_, Lord Beric had said.

By nightfall, the lords and ladies were gathered in Winterfell's solar and briefed everyone of their plans for the incoming battle.

They surround a table with a map of Winterfell and it's surroundings. It showed the combined army facing North with Dothraki as the cavalry, the Unsullied commanded by Grey Worm defending the front and right flank, and the combined forces of the Northern and Vale army on the left flank commanded by Brienne of Tarth. Archers will be posted every few meters on the ramparts surrounding the castle, and that the women and children will be hidden safe in the Crypts.

"We can't beat them in a straight fight," Jon announced as he told them the plan.

"So what can we do?" Jaime Lannister asked.

"The Night King made them all," Jon answered. "They follow his command. If he falls…getting to him maybe our best chance."

"If that's true," Jaime pointed out. "He'll never expose himself."

"Yes, he will," Bran spoke up. "He'll come for me. He's tried before, many times with many Three-Eyed Ravens." He confirmed.

"Why?" Samwell Tarly asked. "What does he want?"

"An endless night." He replied. "He wants to erase this world. And I am its memory."

"That's what Death is, isn't it?" Sam guessed. "Forgetting. Being forgotten. If we forget where we've been, what we've done, we're not men anymore. Just animals. Your memories don't come from books. Your stories aren't just stories. If I wanted to erase the world of men, I'll start with you."

Tyrion stepped forward. "How will he find you?" He asked.

"His mark is on me," Bran said, pulling his sleeve down and revealed the marks the Night King left on his arm. "He always knows where I am."

"We'll put you in the Crypt where it's safest." Jon suggested.

"No." Bran countered. "We need to lure him into the open before his army destroys us all. I'll wait for him in the godswood." He offered.

"You want us to use you as bait?" Sansa said in disbelief.

"We're not leaving you alone out there." Arya insisted.

"He won't be," Meera spoke up, much to his dismay. "I'll stay with him, and a few Crannogmen with me."

"Meera—" He started to protest.

"I killed a White Walker once before it could get to you." She reminded him. "I'll gladly do it again if I must."

"You will need help." Theon agreed. "The Ironborn will stay with you in the godswood as well." He turned to Bran. "I took this castle from you once, let me defend you now."

Bran didn't have a choice and nodded reluctantly.

"We'll hold the rest of them as long as we can." Davos promised.

By then Tyrion suggested that he'll be on the ramparts with Ser Davos, but Daenerys disagreed and insisted he should stay in the Crypt with the women and children. Davos had then suggested that it will Lord Reed who'll stay with him on the ramparts to command the archers, to which the Crannoglord agreed.

Jon continued briefing by keeping the dragons close to the godswood, but not too near or the Night King won't come but close enough to pursue him when he does. Arya asked if dragonfire can stop the Night King, to which Bran admitted that he didn't know.

There was a collective silence until Tormund Giantsbane spoke up. "We're all going to die. But at least, we'll die together."

Jon took a deep breath before speaking again. "Let's get some rest."

One by one, they started to leave the solar, leaving Bran in his chair by the fireplace. Meera stayed behind as she had promised to aid him ever since they've reconciled in the godswood earlier that day. Tyrion stood by the table, contemplating everything that's happening.

As soon as the room emptied, Meera walked towards Bran as Tyrion turned to him.

"Do you need help?" He asked.

Before Bran could answer, Meera spoke up in his stead. "No, it's alright." She assured as she placed one hand on his wheeled chair's push handle. "I got him."

Tyrion looked back and forth between them. "You've had a strange journey, both of you."

"Stranger than most." Bran agreed.

Tyrion grabbed a chair and placed it before Bran. "I'll like to hear about it." He said as he sat.

"It's a very long story, Lord Tyrion." Meera stated.

"If only we were trapped in a castle, in the middle of winter with nowhere to go."

Bran and Meera exchanged looks before he ended up telling Tyrion his story to pass the time. How he was pushed off the broken tower and was in a coma for a few weeks, how an assassin was tasked to kill him with a dagger to which his mother had used as proof on why she had him captive, as it turned out it was Littlefinger who framed it all up.

"You still like riding horses?" Tyrion asked as he took a goblet, filled it with wine before drinking it.

"I did," Bran replied. "But that was before."

Bran continued his story by how their father, Ned Stark was arrested for questioning Joffrey's claim to the throne since he figured out he wasn't Robert's son at all. And because of it, Robb called the banners and went to war, to which Bran himself was left with the task of being _Lord of Winterfell_ at age ten at the same time, looking after his baby brother, Rickon.

When their father was beheaded, Robb would've gone back North if it weren't for their sisters being held as captives. Well, Sansa, actually, as Arya had already escaped the capital. And there was Theon Greyjoy's betrayal, he took Winterfell and threatened to hurt its people if Bran wouldn't yield it to him. He did actually, but he and Rickon ended up witnessing the execution of their master-at-arms Ser Rodrik Cassel. They were prisoners in their own home until they had to leave because it was besieged.

Their initial plan was to go to the Wall, to their brother Jon, until they met the Reeds. Meera's brother, Jojen was like him, a greenseer. He said that Bran wasn't supposed to go to the wall, but beyond it to the Three-Eyed Raven, to which he ordered Osha to take Rickon the Last Hearth as the Umbers were one of their loyal bannermen. They were then captured by a few Night's Watch mutineers before they found the cave of the Three-Eyed Raven.

"I thought you were the Three-Eyed Raven?" Tyrion asked.

"I am," Bran confirmed. "But before me, it was a different person. But when the Night King killed him, I became the Three-Eyed Raven."

Tyrion nearly spat out his wine. "The Night King killed the last Three-Eyed Raven?" He asked in disbelief.

Bran nodded. "I would've been killed too if it weren't for Meera."

He then pointed out that there were four of them who traveled beyond the Wall with his own direwolf, Summer. Jojen Reed had died right before they got into the cave and his loyal servant, Hodor and the direwolf Summer died getting them out. They managed to outrun the wights with the help of his undead Uncle Benjen and took them to the Wall. They were by Night's Watchmen and they reencountered their adventures before heading south back to Winterfell.

Bran noticed that Meera's eyes started watering when he began talking about Jojen. He took her hand and held it for reassurance, much to her surprise and it also made Tyrion raise his eyebrow at them.

"Didn't realize there was still magic left in Westeros." Tyrion said. "And those stories I've heard growing up only exist to scare the children. White Walkers, Children of the Forest and the like." He stood and placed his goblet on the table. "Well, best if we take after what your brother had said, get some rest before we face the dead."

"My lord, my lady," Tyrion bowed before he left the room.

Meera had then pushed his chair back to his chambers and asked her to place him near the fireplace.

As she did, Bran kept thinking about the upcoming battle. But everytime he sees Meera by the weirwood tree in the godswood, he gets out of that vision as he couldn't imagine what'll happen next.

"You should rest, you know." Meera suggested.

"I don't need it." He insisted.

"So you're just gonna stare into the fire until they come?"

"No."

Meera sighed. "Well, if you need anything, I'll be collecting dragonglass arrows with my men in the smithy." She then walked towards the door.

And just as she held the handle, the next words he spoke, came out of nowhere. "I love you." He blurted out.

It made her turn back to him. "What?" She walked back to him and knelt. "What did you just say?" She asked.

Bran shook his head, then stared at the flames of the fireplace. "Many will die in this upcoming battle." He informed. "Houses will be extinct and there will be piles of bodies to burn."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I've lost almost everyone I've loved." He said. "But not everyone, not my brother and sisters, or you." He took a deep breath before speaking again. "It's just…if we die tonight, I just wanted you to know…that I love you." He revealed.

Meera smiled as a tear trickled down her cheek, then gave a slight giggle. "Somehow I still hoped that the young man I knew was still there, and I was right."

Bran reached out to wipe the tear on her cheek. "I sent you away to protect you, and yet, here you are."

She then the question he dreaded to answer. "Will I die tonight then?"

He gulped, trying not to cry as he looked away from her. "I don't know." He admitted. "I'm too scared to look."

Meera tackled him with a bear hug. "I love you too." She whispered in his ear.

When they broke free from the hug, Bran noticed that their faces were a little too close to each other.

Bran took his chance since there won't any once the undead army will arrive. Before he could stop himself, he closed the small space between them as he brushed his lips against hers.

Meera flinched in surprise at first, but she eventually gave in and kissed him back. Not long after, he pulled her closer to him, making her sit on his lap as they continued kissing. Things began heating up as soon as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Suddenly a conch horn was blown, which made them broke free from each other.

"The dead are here." Bran said.

Meera stood and ran to the windows, before turning back to him.

"Go to your father." He suggested.

"But what about you?" She asked.

"I'll wait for you here." He insisted. "I'm not going anywhere."

She nodded, then kissed him on his forehead. "I'll be back." She said before leaving the room.

Even if Bran was by the fireplace, he could hear the ruckus below the courtyard. The orders were being yelled, the clanking of the weapons being drawn, the footsteps of the soldiers on the snow as they're going to their positions and screams of panic as women and children were led into the Crypt.

Meera came back, but she was not alone. Theon Greyjoy was with her together with a few Crannogmen and Ironborn. All of them were armed with swords by their belts and spears and archer's bows slung over their backs and a quiver full of arrows. All of their blades were of dragonglass. Except for Meera, she didn't have a spear, but she did have that Valyrian steel sword she picked up from the cave of the Three-Eyed Raven beyond the Wall, the dragonglass dagger given to them by Samwell Tarly before venturing north of the Wall, and of course, a quiver of dragonglass tip arrows.

"Let's get you to the godswood." Theon said as he began pushing his wheeled chair.

Just as the Ironborn placed him on the ground after carrying him from a few flights of stairs, they were met by Karstark men and Lady Alys Karstark herself, all of whom were armed the same as the Crannogmen and Iron with him.

"My lady," Theon addressed. "The women and children are to hide down the Crypt. My men can escort you—" He started to offer.

"There's no need," Alys said. "We're going to the godswood with you, to protect Lord Brandon. And I've had permission from Lady Sansa herself."

Theon looked like he wanted to argue, but decided against it. Because if he had insisted, Alys would probably demand why Meera won't be in the Crypt either.

Theon pushed Bran's wheeled chair towards the gates to the godswood as the entire castle was busy preparing for the battle. Meera walked beside him, her hand gently grasping Bran's arm resting on the chair's armrest. Alys Karstark walked beside Theon.

Behind them, was a mix of Ironborn, Crannogmen and Karstark men, carrying loads of dragonglass arrows.

Theon rested his chair by the Weirwood tree. Everyone took their positions spread out. Meera was the closest to him, not far them were Theon, who was by the small pond, and Alys who was positioned facing the gates towards the courtyard. All three of them had their bows ready.

While they waited, Meera formed a friendship with Lady Karstark. Bran figured that they definitely would be friends, as they were both the last hope of their houses and their people.

Afterwards, there was an eerie silence besides the roars of Daenerys' dragons flying above them.

Bran knew the people fighting had taken their places. The Dothraki were out front on horses with their weapons set ablaze by the red priestess. Inside the unlit trenches were the Unsullied with the Northern, Vale and Wildling army and the few members of the Night's Watch, and also Jon's direwolf, Ghost standing by Ser Jorah Mormont.

His two sisters were on the ramparts with Ser Davos Seaworth and Lord Howland Reed. Arya was armed with a bow and a two-tipped spear, while Sansa was unarmed.

Everyone knew the battle had started when the Dothraki screamed their unusual battle cry, but of course, the sound of it quickly died out the same way their fires did as soon as they charged.

The dead had charged as their armies tried to stand their ground. Then the dragons burned the attacking wights to a crisp. They were ordered to fall back as soon as they were overwhelmed with the Unsullied and the archers on the ramparts covering their retreat.

Lyanna Mormont who was commanding the armies inside Winterfell ordered the guards to open the gates. Men were running back into the safety of the castle.

Most of the men in the godswood panicked when actually saw men running back into the courtyard through the gates.

One of the dragons landed on the castle's thick walls surrounding the godswood. It was the green-scaled dragon, Rhaegal with Jon on its back. Daenerys was on Drogon's back but with the strong blizzard, they didn't see Ser Davos' signal to light the trenches.

It was the red priestess who lit up the trenches by praying to the lord of light.

"They already lit the trenches." Theon spoke up, then approached him. "Bran, I just want you to know. I wish…the things I did—"

"Everything you did brought you where you are now," Bran interjected. "Where you belong. Home."

Theon nodded and looked down.

"I'm going to go now." Bran said.

Theon looked up and frowned at him. "Go where?" He asked.

Bran had then warged into his ravens to see the carnage outside the walls of Winterfell. The wights were surrounding the lit up trench. Standing, waiting. Until they piled up themselves to put out the fire in one portion to get past the trench and climb the walls.

The archers were ready and men were running up the ramparts to help defend it. Gendry, the blacksmith, was the first to kill a climbing wight. Howland Reed ended up saving Ser Davos from being pulled down by climbing wights with his three-pointed dragonglass-tipped spear. Arya was also on the ramparts with them fighting off wights that came near.

The gates were breached when a wight giant charged through and swept a few people aside, including Lyanna Mormont. Other wights had entered the castle and they were quickly overwhelmed by them. Lyanna charged at the giant, which picked her up like a doll, squeezing her, crushing her bones, then out of nowhere, she stabbed it in the eye. The wight giant died, but she died along with it.

Up in the air, dragons were at battle. And it ended up with all three riders falling off their dragons. Daenerys had Drogon spew his dragonfire at the Night King, but came out unscathed. Jon was running to him, but he raised his arms and the dead bodies surrounding them rose again, including the ones buried in the Crypt.

Wights were charging into the godswood.

"Here they come." Alys warned.

"Steady, lads," Theon ordered. "Steady now."

Meera took an arrow from her quiver. "Make every shot count." She said as she fired, hitting a wight on its chest before it fell.

Other wights had followed and everyone started firing arrows. But the dead kept coming. One by one, their men were running out of arrows, so they used their other weapons to attack.

They had started swarming the godswood. Men fell to the wights.

When Alys Karstark ran out of arrows, she swung her bow to attack, grabbed the nearest arrow sticking out from a wight she had fired earlier and stabbed it to the side of its head. But they kept coming and she had no arrows left.

"Alys," Meera called urgently.

Alys turned to her with a scared expression on her face, before unsheathing her dagger and stabbed the nearest wight that came. She had managed to stab two wights until a few others swarmed her and she went down, screaming.

Meera fired a few more of her arrows at the wights swarming Alys until they stopped moving. She had then dug out Alys from the pile of wights above, but it was too late. She was already gone.

Now, it was only Meera and Theon standing by him.

Out of both of them, it was Theon who first ran out of arrows. Then Meera had used her last arrow to save Theon who had barely drawn his spear when a wight came close to him. He used his spear, while Meera used her Valyrian steel sword to kill off the wights that came close enough to them.

Suddenly the wight dragon, Viserion was right outside the gates in the courtyard, spewing out blue flames to whoever went near it. As it turned out, he was guarding the gate to the godswood.

Bran went back to his body after witnessing everything that happened around him.

Then the wights stopped attacking when the Night King walked into the godswood with the White Walkers.

Right when he saw Theon gripping his spear as he faced the Night King, Bran knew it was how he would die. Defending the same castle they grew up and had once took control over Bran himself.

"Theon." He called. "You're a good man. Thank you."

Theon turned to him, his eyes watered with tears. The gripped his spear tighter before turning to the Night King.

Meera realized what he's about to do. "What are you doing?" She demanded.

Before they knew it, Theon Greyjoy charged at the Night King. But before he could stab him, the Night King easily snapped his spear in half and pierced the pointy end into Theon's stomach. He then fell to his knees before dying on the snow.

Meera gripped the hilt of her Valyrian steel sword, but she never charged. She allowed the Night King to walk freely towards them.

Bran realized that this was his vision: Meera facing the Night King alone. But he never looked past it as he always didn't want to see what happens next. Seeing Meera defenseless was enough to worry him.

Now, he couldn't believe it's going to happen. He had tried to prevent it from happening as he didn't want anything bad happening to Meera, but he realized there's just no other way around it.

He gripped Meera's free hand and squeezed gently for reassurance. But after a second, she shook her hand from his grip, pushed his hair behind his ear and kissed him on his forehead.

The Night King was getting closer with his weapon drawn, to which Meera had raised her sword to parry his attack. But he easily disarmed her and pushed her backwards.

Meera fell to the ground as her sword skidded away from her.

Bran's tears fell down his cheeks, hating that he couldn't do anything as the Night King stood over Meera with his weapon ready for the final blow.

That's when his sister, Arya came out of nowhere and jumped at the Night King from behind. He turned his attention away from Meera and managed to stop Arya, of course. With one hand on Arya's throat and the other on her wrist where she held a Valyrian steel dagger.

But Arya was smart. She had used her deceiving tactic to transfer the dagger to her free hand and stabbed the Night King in his chest.

Suddenly, the Night King shattered into a million pieces. So did the White Walkers. And the wights that kept coming back fell down—and stayed dead.

Arya offered her hand to Meera and hoisted her up.

"We owe you our lives, my lady." Meera said.

"I'm not a lady." Arya insisted.

"Bran!" Jon's voice echoed as he ran into the godswood, sword in hand. He stopped when he saw dead bodies surrounding the weirwood tree. He noticed Theon's body by his feet and sighed sadly.

He understood his sadness. Growing up, Jon used to play with Robb and Theon when they were little and their father used to bring all three of them whenever he went somewhere important. Jon might've resented Theon when he took Winterfell with the Ironborn. But he had completely redeemed himself by helping Sansa escape from Ramsay Bolton's clutches and by helping defend Winterfell from the army of the dead.

Jon continued making his way towards them. "The Night King?" He asked.

"Gone." Arya answered.

"Your sister saved us all," Meera informed. "She killed the Night King."

Jon stared at Arya in awe. "You _what?_"

Arya waved him off. "There's no time to lose." She said as she placed her dagger back to its sheath. "We've got bodies to burn."

Jon turned to Bran and Meera. "You both alright?"

"We are now," Bran assured. "But Arya's right, we've got bodies to burn."

Jon nodded. "Let's get you out of here."

Arya went behind Bran's chair and started to push forward, while Jon and Meera literally had to drag bodies aside to make way for him towards the gates and into the courtyard.

Survivors were piling up the bodies and there were many wounded. They spotted and Davos Seaworth and Howland Reed pulling up dead Valemen across the courtyard. Ser Davos had a few cuts across his face, while Lord Reed had a bloody gash on his hairline as he fell from the ramparts onto a pile of dead bodies on the ground when the dead climbed the walls and breached the gates, he also had his three-point spear slung across his back, with one tip broken.

Meera hesitated running to her father and turned to Bran for permission, for which, he gave an encouraging nod. She had then took off and ran to Howland Reed.

The Crannog lord smiled at the sight of his daughter. He embraced her tight and kissed her forehead.

Bran was glad that Meera made it out alive from her encounter with the Night King, and he was mostly happy seeing her happy with her family.

They crossed the courtyard just as men were opening the door to the Crypt. His sister Sansa was the first to emerge from the doors, followed by a great number of women and children behind her. She gave a big sigh of relief when she saw the three of them together before running to give each of them a hug.

Bran himself was unharmed, Jon and Arya, however, were obviously tired and covered in dirt, blood, and snow from all the fighting. Arya had a gash on her forehead and Jon had a fresh cut on his cheek and was slightly limping when he fell from riding the dragon, Rhaegal amidst fighting with the Night King in the air.

Sansa looked around the courtyard. "Where's Theon?" She asked.

The sullen look on their faces was enough to inform her that Theon didn't make it.

They spent the entire day gathering hay and wood for the dead bodies to be piled and burned.

And it was already near dusk when they had the funeral ceremony outside the walls of Winterfell. They had ordered to stack wood and hay together before laying the bodies on them. And there were tens of thousands.

Jon made an encouraging eulogy about the deceased people who had fought and given their lives so that others may live, and that it is their duty and honor to keep them alive in memory.

Only a few were given torches to light up the funeral pyres. Arya lighted up Beric Dondarrion's, due to him saving her from wights just so she could kill the Night King. Sansa lit up Theon's pyre, as he had helped her escape from Ramsay Bolton and she was upset that she had never been able to say goodbye to him. Samwell Tarly lit up Night's Watch Lord Commander Edd's pyre, as he had saved him before getting killed by wights himself. Meera lighted up Alys Karstark's pyre because even in a span of a single night, she had found a friend to confide in. Jon burned Lyanna Mormont's pyre, as he had always admired her bravery at a very young age and because it was her who killed the wight giant. Daenerys kissed Ser Jorah Mormont's forehead before lighting up his pyre and a few Dothraki warlords as they have been loyal to her. Grey Worm and Tormund Giantsbane lighted up several fallen Unsullied and Free Folk warriors respectively.

During nightfall, Daenerys and Jon ordered a feast to celebrate their victory against the undead army.

Daenerys suddenly legitimized the blacksmith, Gendry to be Gendry Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End, when he got up from his seat looking for his sister Arya in the crowd.

Ever since Arya's heroic act of killing the Night King and ending the long night, she was dubbed as the _Night King Slayer_. And her name will go down in history next to Visenya Targaryen, warrior queen on a dragon; Nymeria Martell, a Rhoynar princess who led her people to Dorne after the fall of Valyia; Ser Brienne of Tarth, the first female knight of Westeros; and Meera Reed, the first woman who killed a White Walker, and many others who have changed Westeros' course of history.

In the feast, everyone seemed to enjoy themselves with all the drinking and cheering. Bran could even see Meera happily drinking in the company of Ser Brienne of Tarth and Podrick Payne. It was relieving to see her actually smiling and having a good time since they rarely had those when they were beyond the Wall.

In the middle of all the drinking, Tyrion Lannister approached him and admired his wheeled chair.

"This is better," Tyrion spoke up. "Even better than the saddle I designed for you."

Bran gave a hint of smile. "It's the same one Daeron Targaryen built for his crippled nephew, a hundred and twenty years ago." He explained. "I like that one."

Tyrion sighed. "You know our history better than anyone. That'll be useful as Lord of Winterfell."

"I'm not Lord of Winterfell." He replied.

"You're the only surviving trueborn son of Ned Stark." Tyrion insisted, then frowned. "You don't want it."

Bran glanced behind him to see Maester Wolkan ready to bring him to his chambers, and then he turned across a few tables to where Meera waved at him. "I don't really want, anymore." He said.

Tyrion chuckled. "I envy you."

"You shouldn't envy me." He said, as his chair was being pulled back. "Mostly, I live in the past."

Bran was brought back to his chambers. Maester Wolkan should've had the servants carry him to his bed, but he declined and simply asked for his chair to be placed near the fireplace before leaving.

He contemplated one everything that had happened. They had made it through the long night, but still, he was too scared to see what comes after for now. Maybe he just needed a good night's sleep.

A knock came to the door and then opened. Meera invited herself in, with a goblet in hand.

"I was hoping you were here," She said. "As you suddenly just disappeared from the celebration in the great hall."

"I'm not much of a drinker." Bran reasoned. "And there were far too many people in there." He frowned. "Although I did hold court when Robb went to war, there weren't that many people."

Meera drank from her goblet and burped. "Sorry." She then placed the goblet on a nearby table. "I'm not much of a drinker either."

Bran chuckled.

She gasped, then smiled. "You laughed. I've never heard that in a while." She said. "It's good to hear it."

Looking at Meera in the firelight, with her face flushed from all the wine she drank and even with a few cuts from the battle, her dark curly hair falling down her shoulders and her cheerful smile, she looked absolutely beautiful.

He found himself staring at her, but she noticed.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Nothing." He said quickly. "I'm just gonna…go to bed."

Meera approached him and pulled his chair to face the neatly-made bed. And when he tried to get off the chair and into the bed, she rushed to help him.

"Oh, you don't have to—"

"I want to." She insisted, then she wrapped her arms around him and carried him onto the bed effortlessly. Despite being a petite woman, Meera definitely had great upper body strength.

"And it's not like I haven't done this before." She pointed out. "It was harder to do in the wild. We weren't in a feather bed with soft pillows and fur blankets." She said as he arranged the pillows so that he'd be sitting up with his back leaning on the headboard and then she pulled up the covers to his lap. "Comfortable?"

He nodded and smiled. "Thank you."

"For what?" She asked as she sat on the side of the bed opposite him.

"For standing by me." He said. "I mean, it's hard to put up with a cripple—"

"You're more than just a cripple, Bran." Meera interrupted. "Or the Three-Eyed Raven. You're Brandon Stark." She reminded him.

It made him smile. "You know when I first woke up not feeling my legs," He said. "I told my brother Robb that I'd rather die. But I realized that more people had bigger problems than not be able to walk. The Northerners, nobles and common folks alike, are good and loyal people. And I felt the need to help them whenever I can, whatever I can. That was enough reason for me to go on. Because a wise woman once said: _Some people will always need help. That doesn't mean they're not worth helping._"

Meera giggled. "I said that, didn't I?"

Bran nodded, then reached out and touched her cheek. "And if I hadn't lost my legs, I wouldn't have met you." He then closed the space between them and kissed her.

He pulled her close enough that she was already straddling his lap.

She began tugging the strings of his tunic, which startled him and he broke free from the kiss.

"What?" Meera asked.

"We shouldn't be doing this." He said.

"If you're too worried about your bloody honor, don't be." She assured. "This can be our little secret."

Truthfully, it had nothing to do with honor and whatnot. He's more worried about her. Ever since he fell, he was couldn't feel anything below his waist anymore and lost the use of his legs. He probably won't satisfy her as able-bodied men will. But Bran knew that Meera's a maiden and that she was nearly raped when they went beyond the Wall and got captured by a few Night's Watch mutineers.

Bran pulled her closer and started kissing her again as he allowed her to remove his clothes. Hearing her moan made his chest pounding hard and feeling hot despite it being winter.

Meera started grinding on him as she took off her clothes, tunic and breaches and all. He never realized how she had a lean, but strong frame under all that fur. It made him question himself: _This is the girl that dragged him across the frozen tundra north of the Wall?_ He couldn't believe it. _She's beautiful._

Just as she pulled the strings of his breeches, they both noticed that his member had erected much to their surprise. Meera went to touch it, but he didn't feel anything as everything below his waist was numb.

Before he knew it, Meera had impaled herself on his erected cock. It caused her to make out a soft whine at first. By the time she was able to catch her breath, she began rolling her hips and rode him, pulling herself up and dropped back down. She seemed to be enjoying it as she had her mouth dropped open in pleasure.

Bran had then caught her mouth in a kiss until they were exploring each other's tongues. As they did, his hands went everywhere, rubbing her back, her waist, hips and then lower, down to her thighs with her moaning at every touch.

He then moved his lips from her mouth to her jaw, to her neck, which made her moan softly. Slowly, his lips inched down to the curve of her breasts and licked her nipple. Later on, he began biting her nipples, making her groan even louder.

Meera wrapped her arms around his neck and raked her fingers through his hair as she continued riding him. Until she gasped and turned to him with wide eyes.

"What is it?" He asked.

"I think you just filled me with your seed." She said, then pulled out from him to prove her point.

Sure enough, he could see his seed slipping down her legs. It made him nervous as he may have or may have not put a bastard in her belly.

Meera helped him lie on his back on the bed then pulled the furs to cover her and Bran. "You worry too much." She said as she lay beside him. "It's going to be alright, Bran." She assured as she yawned.

"I know." He said, even though he wasn't sure if it's going to be.

A moment later, he realized Meera had fallen asleep. All that riding must've made her weary.

He made an effort to put one hand around her to use as a pillow, to which she obliged and she scooted closer to him and placed her arm on his chest. He reached his hand and gently caressed her cheek.

After all she's been through, fighting wights, facing the Night King, burning the dead and drinking in the celebration, she slept peacefully like she just had a warm bath and then jumped into the bed.

_She's still so beautiful_, Bran thought. Part of him wished time would just stop just so he could hold her in her arms much longer. And that this night would go on forever. But he knew that wasn't the case.

He didn't know what will happen between them, as he was still too scared to see what the future held that concerned Meera. But if they weren't meant to be, at least he had this one night with her.

Bran gave her a soft kiss on her forehead before he himself drifted to sleep.

. . .

The following morning, Bran and Meera woke up to someone knocking on the door. But before he could answer and they could reach for their clothes, the door opened to a surprised Sansa and a female servant who brought his meal.

"Bran—" Sansa started to say, then stopped at her tracks when she saw them on the bed together.

Meera pulled the furs up to her chin. "Um…good morning, my lady."

Sansa smiled. "Good morning, Lady Reed." She greeted in return, then she gestured for the servant for Bran's food to be placed on the table, which she obliged and left immediately. His sister had then politely turned her back on them for them to get dressed for a moment.

He put on his tunic and had declined any help from Meera at the moment and just she got quickly dressed and left his chambers.

When Meera left, Sansa turned to face him with a teasing smile. "She disappeared in last night's celebration. Lord Reed had assumed his daughter went to bed. I didn't realize she slept in a different bed."

Bran looked down, not knowing what to say.

"Bran," Sansa said. "You may see everything, but you don't hide everything." She pointed out. "You love her. I know that."

"It doesn't matter at the moment." He said, desperately trying to change the topic. "Now, what can I help you with?" He asked.

Sansa took a deep breath before putting on her serious face. The face she usually has when she holds court in the great hall. "Now that the war against the Night King is won, I would assume the dragon queen would want to march to the capital with the Northern army."

"Yes, she will." He confirmed.

His sister huffed. "Is there a way we can stop that?"

"You don't like her." He noticed. "But she came North to fight alongside us with her army and dragons. She helps us, we help her. It's a fair negotiation."

"I know that," Sansa said. "But _immediately?_ Half the army's gone and most of the survivors are wounded. They're not ready to fight." She knelt by his chair and gripped the armrest. "Bran, if it weren't for you, Littlefinger might have succeeded in turning me and Arya against each other. I don't think Daenerys will be a good queen and she's manipulating Jon. If there's someone who can stop her, it's you."

"She's not manipulating Jon." He assured. "She never had. Jon had chosen to follow her, and he brought along the entire North with him."

"What do we do then?" She asked.

"You need to talk to Jon…and Tyrion."

Sansa frowned. "Tyrion?" She shook her head. "But he's the hand of the queen."

"At the moment, yes," Bran said. "But trust me, he will know what to do when the time comes."

Afterwards, Jon and Daenerys called for another war council. There were fewer people compared to the last time they were surrounding that table.

Three houses are now extinct, which meant three keeps in the North will now be empty. Ned Umber, the last of his blood, was killed days before the battle even began. Alys Karstark, also the last of her blood, had died defending Bran in the godswood against the wights. And with Jorah and Lyanna Mormont's deaths, their house was left with no heirs.

Jon and Grey Worn had pointed out that the North and Unsullied armies are only down to half of their previous numbers. Daenerys insisted that they take the capital immediately. Sansa argued, pointing out that the men who fought in the battle need rest, but Jon countered saying they should listen to their queen's commands.

When the war council was adjourned, Arya and Sansa stopped Jon from leaving the room and insisted that the four of them need to talk. His sisters prompted that they should go to the godswood to have some privacy.

But Bran knew what Jon's about to do. He wants to tell Arya and Sansa the truth about his parentage.

"You understand we'd all be dead if not for her." Jon scolded. "We'd be corpses marching down to King's Landing."

"Arya's the one that killed the Night King." Sansa argued.

"Her men gave their lives defending Winterfell." Jon continued.

"And we will never forget them," Sansa assured. "But that doesn't mean that I want to kneel to someone."

"I swore myself and the North to her cause."

"I respect that." Arya spoke up.

Sansa turned to Arya. "You respect it?" She repeated like she'd misheard her.

Arya shrugged. "We needed her. We needed her army, her dragons." She turned to Jon. "You did the right thing. And we're doing the right thing telling you we don't trust your queen."

Jon looked down. "You don't know her yet."

"I'll never know her," Arya said. "She's not one of us."

"If you only choose the people you grew up with, you won't make many allies." He pointed out.

"That's alright, I don't need many allies."

Jon sighed. "Arya—"

"We're family." She reminded him. "The four of us. The last of the Starks."

"I've never been a Stark." Jon countered, eyeing Bran, whose chair was placed behind his sisters.

"You are." Sansa insisted. "Just as much Ned's Stark's child as any of us."

"You're my brother," Arya interjected. "Not my half-brother or my bastard brother, my brother."

Jon took a deep breath, not knowing how to start.

"It's your choice." Bran spoke up.

Both his sisters turned to him. They seemed to have forgotten that he was there with them as well.

"I need to tell you something," Jon said, finally. "But you have to swear you'll never tell another soul."

Sansa and Arya exchanged confused looks.

"What is it?" Arya asked.

"You have to swear it before I tell you."

Sansa frowned. "How can I promise to keep a secret if I don't even know what it is?"

"Because we're family." Jon reminded him. "Swear it." He urged.

"I swear it." Arya promised.

Sansa nodded reluctantly. "I swear it."

Jon turned to Bran. "Tell them."

Bran told them the whole truth about Robert's rebellion and Jon's parentage. That he wasn't their brother at all, but their cousin as he was their Aunt Lyanna's son with Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, which meant he was the actual heir to the iron throne and has a greater claim than Daenerys. He explained why their father, Ned Stark had promised Lyanna in her deathbed to take care of her son as she knew Robert would kill him if he found out she was carrying Rhaegar's son, and urged Howland Reed, the only witness to secrecy until the time is right. Ned Stark kept his promise to his last breath and allowed his honor to be stained by acknowledging Jon as his bastard just so he could keep an eye on him.

His sisters were silent for a moment.

"You're still our brother." Arya concluded, giving Jon a side-hug. "You'll always be our brother."

. . .

As Jon prepared to head south with Daenerys, Bran had already known that Sansa had broken her promise and had told Tyrion about Jon's parentage. And she had insisted that he will be a better ruler than Daenerys ever will as he truly cares and will do anything for the good of his people, unlike the dragon queen who is basically power-hungry and wanted nothing more than to sit on the iron throne.

Slowly as they traveled south, Daenerys' inner Targaryen madness was showing. Especially when another one of her dragons was killed and her closest advisor, Missandei was executed under Cersei's orders. Everyone was oblivious to it, but Tyrion and Varys. Lord Varys even campaigned and urged Jon to step up and tried to put poison in Daenerys food, until she found out and ordered for his execution.

Daenerys proved that she was Aerys' daughter and became a mad queen when she burned down King's Landing along with its soldiers and people. It prompted Tyrion to resign as her hand, and Jon to kill her with a dagger.

With Daenerys dead, Jon imprisoned for killing her, and the third in line for the throne, Gendry Baratheon, refusing the claim as he already had Storm's End, the most powerful lords and ladies in Westeros were called to the capital.

On the way to King's Landing only did Bran saw their fates, and he cried, though he had to be discreet about it as he was in the same wheelhouse carriage as his sister Sansa.

The assembly was held in the ruins of the Dragonpit, a huge structure in King's Landing atop the Hill of Rhaenys where it was once used as a giant stable for the dragons.

Bran's chair was placed where he sat between his two sisters, as they represent the North, along with the present Northern lords and ladies, Wyman Manderly, Cley Cerwyn, Robett Glover, Eddara Tallhart, Howland Reed, and his daughter, Meera.

To their right were the Riverlords, led by their mother's brother and their uncle, Edmure Tully; the lords of the Reach, including Samwell's sister, Talla Tarly, the new lady of Horn Hill; the Westerlords led by Reginald Lannister of Lannisport.

To their left were the lords of the Vale led by their cousin, Robin Arryn and Yohn Royce and Yara Greyjoy, the Lady of Pyke; the Dornish lords led by the new prince of Dorne; and the Stormlords led by Davos Seaworth, Brienne of Tarth and Gendry Baratheon of Storm's End.

Tyrion Lannister was brought out before them by the Unsullied Commander, Grey Worm for trial. He was a prisoner of Daenerys after he allowed his brother, Jaime to escape from the Unsullied and afterwards, renouncing his fealty and position as hand of the queen. But with the dragon queen dead, and Jon also imprisoned, no one can dictate what to do next as they don't have a king or queen. Grey Worm had then urged them to choose one so that he or she can decide Tyrion's fate.

When Tyrion was asked if he ever wanted the crown, he shook his head. "Half the people hate me for serving Daenerys," He said. "The other half hate me for betraying her. Can't think of a worse choice."

"Who then?" Ser Davos asked.

"I had nothing to do but think these past few weeks," Tyrion admitted. "About our bloody history. But the mistakes we've made…" He faltered, then stepped forward. "What unites people? Armies? Gold? Flags?" He shook his head, then glanced at Bran. "Stories." He said. "There's nothing in the world more powerful than a good story. Nothing can stop it. No enemy can defeat it. And who has a better story than _Bran the Broken_?"

Funnily, it was the same name Bran had given himself when he woke up after falling from the tower.

"The boy who fell from the high tower and lived," Tyrion continued. "He knew he'd never walk again so he learned to fly. He crossed beyond the Wall, a crippled boy and became the Three-Eyed Raven." He turned to everyone else. "He is our memory, the keeper of all our stories. The wars, weddings, births, massacres, famines. Our triumphs, our defeats, our past. Who better than to lead us into the future?"

Of course, his sister was the first to react.

"Bran has no interest in ruling," Sansa pointed out. "And he can't father children."

"Good," Tyrion said. "Sons of kings can be cruel and stupid as you well know. This will never torment us." He turned to Grey Worm. "That is the wheel our queen wanted to break." He faced everyone once again. "From now on, rulers will not be born, they will be chosen on this spot of the lords and ladies of Westeros, to serve the realm."

Tyrion approached Bran. "I know you don't want it. I know you don't care about power." He said. "But I ask you now, if we choose you, will you wear the crown?" He asked. "Will you lead the seven kingdoms to the best of your abilities, from this day until your last day?"

It took him a while to answer. Bran had no intention of ruling at all. As a second-born son, he knew his brother Robb would have Winterfell and his sisters will be married off to heirs of other lords, and him, after hearing all the stories about heroes and princes and knights from Old Nan, Bran wanted to be one. He wanted to be a knight of the Kingsguard like Barristan the bold and Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning.

When Robb went off to war, Bran was left as Lord of Winterfell in his brother's stead. He never wanted that, but he had to, for the sake of their people. The thought of it had grown on him, though. He may have not helped them head-on with a sword, but he was helping them by listening to their problems and find solutions to fix it. It was more of an order-to-execute tactic.

Bran managed to glance at Meera's direction and it made him more confused. He couldn't leave her, but when she gave him an encouraging smile he remembered her words: _Some people will always need help. That doesn't mean they're not worth helping._

It struck him that if he had helped Northerners then, he could help more people when he's king. And he remembered one conversation Maester Aemon of the Night's Watch had to Jon and then later to Samwell. _Love is the death of duty_.

Part of him wanted to pull a _Duncan Targaryen_, renounce his titles just so he could be with the woman he loves. But no, he knew Meera would choose her love for her people over her love for him, anyhow.

After thinking it through, Bran finally answered. "Why do think I came all this way?"

Tyrion nodded. "To Brandon of House Stark, I say aye."

Samwell Tarly was the first to agree, followed by their uncle Edmure, and then the rest of the lords and ladies, except the Northern lords.

Sansa was hesitating before she turned to him. "I love you, little brother. I always will. You'll be a good king." She said. "But tens of thousands of Northmen fell in the Great War defending all of Westeros and those who survived have seen too much and fought too hard ever to kneel again." She turned to everyone whose eyes were on her. "The North will remain an independent kingdom as it was for thousands of years."

His sister turned to him for approval, and he nodded in agreement.

"All hail Bran the Broken," Tyrion announced. "The First of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Six Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm."

Everyone stood and chanted. "All hail Bran the Broken!"

Tyrion bowed to him, before walking back to Grey Worm.

"Lord Tyrion," Bran called. "You will be my hand."

"No, Your Grace," Tyrion refused. "I don't want it."

"And I don't want to be king." He pointed out.

Tyrion shook his head in disagreement. "I don't deserve it. I thought I was wise, but I wasn't. I thought I knew what was right, but I didn't." He said. "Choose Ser Davos, choose anyone else."

"I choose you." Bran insisted.

"You cannot!" Grey Worm disagreed.

"Yes, I can." He said, matter of factly. "I am King."

Grey Worm pointed at Tyrion "This man is a criminal." He said. "He deserves justice."

"He just got it." He prompted. "He's made many terrible mistakes. He's going to spend the rest of his life fixing them."

The following day, Bran and his sisters went to the harbor to see off Jon before he leaves for the Wall. And later that day, his sister Sansa and the Northern lords were going back North.

Many of the lords wished him luck in ruling the remaining kingdoms of Westeros. Sansa simply gave him a hug and told him that she'd missed him and Arya, but reminded them both to keep in touch and to keep writing to each other.

The last person who said goodbye that day was Meera.

After he was elected king, Bran had asked Meera that she wanted to stay in the capital, she'd be welcome to. She never gave him a straight answer, but she had said that she'll think about it.

When he woke up that day, he knew what her answer will be.

Now, Meera stood before him, her eyes filled with tears.

"You probably know what I'm going to say." She said.

"I do." He replied.

"I can't stay here." Meera pointed out. "I want to, but I can't."

Bran was trying very hard not to cry as his sister, Arya and, Hand, Tyrion was standing on either side of him.

"I know." He said. "You're the future of your house and your people. And the Northern Kingdom's future Wardeness of the South."

Meera surged forward and tackled him in a tight embrace. "I'll always love you, Bran." She whispered in his ear.

Bran couldn't contain his tears, so he let them fall as he returned the same tight hug she'd given him. "I do too. Don't forget that."

When they let go from the hug, Meera wiped his tears with both her hands before cupping his face and kissed him on the lips, right there in front of everyone.

He kissed her back, of course, neglecting the fact that they were in public.

Meera pulled away afterwards and composed herself before bowing. "Your Grace."

Bran nodded. "My Lady."

She gave him a sad smile, then climbed onto her horse as Sansa's entourage prepared to leave the capital.

Bran took a deep breath as he watched Meera go.

"I don't understand," Arya spoke up. She'd been so quiet, he forgot she was there. "You love her and she loves you. But you're just gonna let her go like that?"

"I should ask you the same," Bran said, turning to his sister. "You love him and he loves you. But you turned him down."

Arya knitted her eyebrows and never answered.

Bran knew of her adventures with the blacksmith bastard turned lord, Gendry Baratheon. Arya's still in denial about it, of course. But he knew

"Do you remember what father had told you when you were balancing on your toes in the steps in the Tower of the Hand?" Bran asked.

Arya gave him a skeptical look. "What do you mean?" She asked.

_"__You will marry a high lord and rule his castle,"_ Bran recalled._ "And your sons shall be knights, princes, and lords."_

His sister looked mortified at his statement.

"That might still happen, you know." He pointed out, then smiled. "You're luckier than most, Arya. Don't waste your chance."

That's when Arya walked out, hopefully to reconsider and make-up with what she had said to the new Lord of Storm's End.

"Pardon me, Your Grace," Tyrion voiced out. "I know it's not my place, but your sister's got a point. You love Lady Reed, and she loves you all the same." He said. "She would've been your queen. But why let her go?" He asked.

Bran turned to him. "Love is the death of duty." He said. "As the king, my duty is to the people of the six kingdoms as Meera's is to the Crannogmen of the Neck."

It was a hard decision, but he needs to live with it as his and Meera's love for each other is outweighed by their love for their people.

Bran did not despair as much because he knew that they would meet again, but it's not gonna happen in many years. He's already seen it all.

He knew of Meera falling ill on the road to Greywater Watch and have the healers tell her that she's with child. Meera wept at the godswood almost everynight when she found out and was reassured whenever she sees a raven close by as she knows he's always watching her.

A few moons later, Meera would give birth to a healthy baby boy that she named after him. Years later, Little Bran would be running across the halls of Greywater Watch, climbing the tallest trees and navigating the swamps. Meera herself would train him to use weapons the same way her father trained her. He would grow up to be courteous and was loved by all.

When his sister Sansa, the Queen in the North, had heard about Little Bran, she would insist that he and Meera should often visit her in Winterfell. His two aunts, Arya and Sansa would eventually be fond of having him around. He would, in time, be close with his cousins, Eddard Baratheon, and Robb Stark and play with them in the courtyards. Sansa had eventually legitimized his son to be Brandon Reed, the heir to Greywater Watch, the same way she did with Arya and Gendry's second-born son, Robb, to be the heir to Winterfell.

It would be a few weeks after Little Bran's thirteenth nameday that Meera becomes Lady of Greywater Watch and the Northern Kingdom's Wardeness of the South. It was also the time she decided to tell their son about his father and cried when she did. Bran made his presence known by allowing a flock of ravens fly over Greywater's godswood, letting them know that he's always watching over them.

Bran would meet his son when he would turn fifteen, just a month after he'd step down as king. He handed the reins to his hand, Tyrion Lannister. Even though he's a Lannister, cunning and wise, he wasn't power-hungry. Instead, he uses his wisdom and power to help others and do what's best for the kingdom. For him, those are the qualities of a great ruler. But mostly, because his sister Arya would convince him eventually on what else Brandon Stark would want to do for himself as the kingdom would already be prosperous then.

There's only one answer to that: to be with the woman he loves. So he went back North. Not in Winterfell, but Greywater Watch.


End file.
